


Of Fathers And Sons

by jaybirdwrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Child Abuse, SPN Angst Appreciation Day, welcome and enjoy your pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybirdwrites/pseuds/jaybirdwrites
Summary: Mom's birthday is worse than usual for the Winchester boys this year.(Note: this was written for SPN angst appreciation day 2018)





	Of Fathers And Sons

It's Mom's birthday today, and ever since Dad got back from work, he hasn't left his room. Just like last year. Sammy doesn't get it. Why Dad seems to hate today so much more than every other day. Why there are so many empty bottles lying around the house. But I do. He's sad because he misses her, and drinking that awful-smelling stuff makes him fell better. Every now and then I hear a crash, but I don't go check. He never opens the door.

"I'm boooreeeed, Dean!"

I look up from my comic book and sigh. On days like this, the responsibility of looking after Sam falls to me.

"I know, Sammy. It's almost dinner time, anyway. Wanna come help me make some food?"

He slides off the couch where he had been watching TV, reaching out with his toes for the floor. As soon as he lands, he takes off running past me to the kitchen. "Yeah!"

"Hey, wait up!" I get off my chair and follow him, wondering what I can make. Maybe there's some microwave meals left in the freezer. At least neither of us are picky eaters. 

"Maybe Dad will come out of his room if we make him something good!"I find Sam standing on the counter, stretching up on his tippy toes. At five years old, he's just tall enough to reach the shelf with the plates and bowls. He's also standing way too close to the knives and looks like he's about to fall over backwards at any moment.

I run towards him. "Sam! Get down right now!"  _Stupid kid!_    _Can't he be left alone for five seconds?_

Sam, startled, tries to turn around to look at me, and instead topples off the counter. I get there just in time for him to fall on me. He takes half of the plates with him, and they crash to the floor around us. I cushion his landing with my body as much as I can, the air whooshing from my lungs like I got kicked in the gut. I land on shards of broken china at the same time that his elbow stabs me in the ribs. Something cracks, and I cry out with a pain that's worse than any I've ever felt before.

Sam rolls off me, shaking, as thunder rumbles from the stairs. Then Dad storms into the kitchen. He smells awful and his rage fills the whole room. "What the hell is going on here?" He yells, looking at me as I try to sit up among all of the broken pieces of dishes. Sam is standing beside me. He looks fine, at least. He's scared though. His lip is trembling like he's about to cry. 

"Sam, get out of here. Go to your room, right now!" He sounds like his tongue is tripping over the words. 

With a sniffle, Sammy does as he's told, disappearing up the stairs. Dad turns to me. I don't like to admit it, but he scares me when he gets like this. Especially now. He lumbers closer, getting so close to my face that I can smell his awful breath.

"Can't you look after your brother for a few hours? Don't you remember what I told you?!"

I stand up, shaking. The cuts on my arms and back sting, and my chest feels like it's on fire. Shiny tears start to blur the edges of my vision. "Protect Sammy. I know Dad, I'm sorry, I tried-"

"That's not good enough!" Dad's arm snaps out and before I can move, the back of his hand connects with my face. The blow is hard enough to knock me over backwards, and I land on the floor again. I whimper, too scared to make any other noise. I can't stop the tears, though. They are dripping down my cheeks and splashing onto the tiles. I choke on a sob, tasting blood. He's never hit me before.

Dad is quiet for a moment, looking from his hand, to me, and back to his hand again. Some kind of dull version of surprise briefly crosses his face, but it doesn't last long. 

"I ordered you to keep your brother safe! What if he had gotten hurt? When I tell you to do something, you do it, Dean!"

I am shaking hard now, trying not to cry and failing at it. Dad is waiting for some kind of answer. I know he won't leave until I give it to him. "Y- yes sir." My voice is shaking too, but I can't help it. I shrink into the cupboards, unable to look into his eyes.

Dad just grunts and stomps out of the room. All I can do is hope Sammy didn't see any of that.

I pick myself up off the floor and stumble over to the bathroom, locking myself in. I grip the counter hard and look at my tear stained face in the mirror. My right cheek is bright red and swollen. I can count the fingers of the handprint Dad left behind. It stings really bad. My shiny green eyes stare back at me, framed by wet eyelashes and red rims, and I think that even though my other injuries hurt like hell, maybe this is the worst pain I've ever felt.


End file.
